


Perhaps the Greatest Illusion (is reality itself)

by Emerald_Heart12



Category: Persona 5
Genre: 2/2, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff without Plot, Goes Without Saying, M/M, MASSIVE P5R SPOILERS, Persona 5: The Royal Spoilers, Touch-Starved Akechi Goro, akira refuses to accept that goro's dead because goro IS NOT DEAD thank you, did i write this on a whim because i was emotional? yes, it's 2/2 but tender and soft that's it that's the fic, maruki is...kind of a douche, or well fluff with minimal plot because i'm me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:21:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27224932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emerald_Heart12/pseuds/Emerald_Heart12
Summary: On the night of February 2nd, Akira knows what choice he’s going to make, knows what the right decision is. All he asks for is a moment of respite to indulge in these few moments with the boy he could never give up on.Prompt: “The thought of losing you again scares me.”
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 18
Kudos: 191
Collections: Emma's Prompt-based Fic Collection





	Perhaps the Greatest Illusion (is reality itself)

**Author's Note:**

> YES I wrote this on a whim, yes it's my first actual time writing shuake kiss, yes I nearly died doing it and I'm in tears okay, 2/2 messes with me every time and all I wanted was some soft shuake
> 
> Also trust me listen to Our Light while reading this it'll make it 100000x more effective (and it'll also make you cry but I digress)

“A detective and a phantom thief. Despite being enemies, your relationship isn’t based on hatred or ill will . . .” Maruki muses, leaning towards Ren.

 _We’re rivals, not enemies_ —the words were already forming on Akira’s lips when Maruki cut him off.

“That’s why I found it so tragic when I learned what happened in Shido’s Palace,” he said, eyes full of pity, and Akira’s mouth froze. _How . . . how can he even know about that?_

There had been no one—not even Sae knew what had happened in Shido’s Palace, and there was absolutely no way Maruki had been in the Palace at the time. The only ones present had been The Phantom Thieves and Akechi himself. What had transpired that day had been a carefully guarded secret from the public, which could only mean—

 _He must have found out from . . . the collective unconscious?_ Akira frowned—that wouldn’t have made sense, because all of the Phantom Thieves had Personas, and _couldn’t_ mingle with the Shadows or whispers of Mementos. None of them would tell Maruki about it so openly either. They wouldn’t even have had the chance to do so. So how did Maruki—

It clicked. _He didn’t find out from one of the others._ Akira’s throat tightened uncomfortably. _He must have found out . . . from me._

It made all too much sense— _Akira_ was the wildcard of the group, he took in and let out Personas and Shadows with ease, gained them access to his mind in exchange for their trust and their power. Hell, he’d done it in _Maruki’s Palace_.

And . . . what had happened in the boiler room of Shido’s ship wasn’t something small—to Akira, at least. The memories were too vivid, each moment ingrained almost permanently into Akira’s eyes.

_The cocking of a gun, venomous words spit from the cognitive Akechi’s lips; the worst words Akechi could possibly have heard in that situation—“you bastard”—as if to sum up what Akechi believed of his existence within a single word._

_“So, my final enemy is a puppet version of myself . . .” was all he’d heard the real Akechi say through gritted teeth, as though condemning himself to his fate. Then, denying that choice, “I . . . !”_

_The sounds of gunshots echoed loudly, followed by a sickening silence._

Akira barely managed to keep himself from flinching. He could still remember the scene as it played out from behind a metal door where he was left _helpless_ to leave Akechi to his fate, to the unfair, cruel world that he was never really given an opportunity to _truly_ fight back against.

It was no wonder Maruki had picked up on it, in retrospect. _Is he . . . going to use this against me? By making a reality in which Shido never went that far, in which Akechi was never made to target Wakaba and Okumura in the first place . . ._

Akira’s suspicions were all but confirmed with Maruki’s next words: “Say, Kurusu-kun . . . didn’t you regret how things ended with him?”

Akira’s breath hitched in his throat.

Either Maruki didn’t notice, or he didn’t care. “You two came to a deep understanding of one another . . . yet you had no choice but to leave Akechi-kun to his fate.”

At this point, Maruki didn’t even bother feigning sympathy. The fact that there was only eagerness in his expression made Akira’s stomach twist with regret.

He really, really wished he had never opened up to Maruki.

Or maybe he wished he had never given Maruki the option to fidget with the metacognitive world at all. Maybe he could’ve helped Maruki with his assumptions about Rumi, or could have changed his heart earlier.

He could have _helped him_ instead of . . . _this_ happening.

Because really—it was Akira’s fault and Akira’s fault _alone_ for letting Maruki get this far, for giving him the _idea_ to mess with the collective unconscious in the first place.

A chill ran down Akira’s spine. He did his best to suppress it.

“That’s why I created a reality where you two could have a fresh start together,” Maruki finished, looking for all the world like a puppy expecting to be praised and not a tentacle-wielding manipulator of reality.

Not like he could make all of Akira’s real history with Akechi disappear with the snap of a finger.

Not like that was _exactly_ what he had done.

Akira felt queasy.

_“I’ll hold onto your glove.”_

_A gasp, then a chuckle. “After all this, that’s what you have to say? Seriously, you really are . . .”_

That was the last thing he’d heard Akechi say to him in Shido’s Palace.

Morgana gasped. “That would mean the Akechi in the real world is . . .”

_Is what? . . . Dead? No, that can’t be . . . Maruki doesn’t know that, he doesn’t know that Akechi turned himself in for me on Christmas Eve, he can’t possibly know about that—_

“Get what I’m saying?” Maruki asked, all but confirming Morgana’s assumption. His expression still didn’t change when he continued, “I genuinely didn’t want to tell you like this. I didn’t want to make it seem like I’m holding him hostage.

“But no matter what you may think of me, I just want you to accept this reality and move on with your happy lives.”

_Can you even . . . really call it reality?_

For a moment, he wants to be selfish—if Maruki had in fact brought Akechi back to life, that would mean that the wish he granted it from was undoubtedly Akira’s.

Even if the other Phantom Thieves hadn’t clearly had different wishes that were granted in their own ways, none of them would have wished for Akechi back. None of them had ever really seen him the way Akira did.

No one ever saw Akechi the way Akira did. No one else _cared_ for him enough to want him back.

Not even Akechi himself.

Akira’s thoughts were proven when Akechi takes this moment to speak: “And that matters how, exactly?” Akira looks at him, breath bated as he continues, “Don’t tell me you think dangling my life before us is going to have any impact on our decision.”

From the way he spoke . . . “So . . . you knew?” _You knew all the time that you were, what—dead?—and you never said anything, even to me?_ Akira wished he could be angry, be upset, even hurt.

But he understood exactly why Akechi hadn’t said it—he’d known that Akira would probably jump at the opportunity to save him. He’d known that, and had kept it from Akira . . . because he didn’t want to be saved if he wasn’t the one choosing it.

“Well,” Akechi said, raising his left hand to his chin (a pose Akira had noted that he still made even after dropping the Detective Prince act), “I lacked conclusive evidence.” He turned directly to face Akira and Morgana, before continuing, “But after I fought against you all, I had a gap in my memory that ended with meeting up with Akira again.”

_He must be referring to last month, when he came to Leblanc, but . . . then, what about Christmas?_

Unfettered, Akechi doesn’t bring that up at all. “There were also the cases of Wakaba Isshiki and President Okumura . . . of course I’d find all of that suspicious.” His tone conveyed that it would have been stupid for Maruki to think that Akechi of all people could have been duped by the false reality.

“I see,” Maruki nodded diplomatically, then, “I had a feeling the truth of the matter still wouldn’t dissuade you, Akechi-kun . . .” A pause. “But how about you, Kurusu-kun?”

“Is that . . . why you came to Leblanc when you would have assumed I was alone?” Akira asked quietly. “To ask me to make a decision . . . all on my own after revealing this to me?”

He knew exactly what Maruki was trying to get him to do by doing it—coming alone, for what he’d expected would be a one-on-one conversation in which he could use Akechi as bait for Akira.

Maruki ignored the question. “‘You think dangling my life before us going to have any impact on our decision?’ That’s what Akechi-kun said a moment ago. If that’s how you see it at this point, I’m fine with it . . .” Maruki sighed. “But I’m still going to ask you, one last time: Will you accept the reality I create for you?”

Maruki wasn’t stupid. He was a psychologist, for crying out loud. He knew what he was doing, he knew that holding Akechi against him—the one person he couldn’t save—would do numbers on Akira.

And the scariest part, perhaps, was that Maruki knew just how hard it was for Akira to refuse.

“You were the guiding light to my research. You showed me the way so I could make my dream into reality. I have nothing but gratitude for you—not a single ounce of ill will. That’s why I wanted you of all people to understand . . .”

Akira hunched into himself a little, unable to meet Maruki’s eyes. _If I had never done anything about Maruki’s research in the first place . . . I wouldn’t have to choose whether Akechi lives or dies . . ._

Maruki, finally sensing his discomfort, stood up. “Perhaps I shouldn’t ask you for an answer on the spot like that. I’ll be going now.”

Akira’s mind was still churning, bitter and hurt by the consequences of his own actions unto Maruki and Akechi. Still, he reached into his pocket. “You forgot something,” he said dully, sliding the calling card Yusuke and Akechi had prepared together across the table.

Maruki smiled, picking it up. “Ah, that’s right. I’ve heard your calling.” Akira could sense a slight shift in the atmosphere the moment Maruki turned his back to him. “And, about my question—let’s do this: I’ll be waiting in the Palace tomorrow, just as I promised. If you still haven’t changed your mind by then, we’ll meet there. But if you don’t show, I’ll take that to mean you’ve accepted my reality.” This time, Maruki looked at Akechi before leaving. “See you.”

The closing chime of Leblanc’s bell echoed a little too loudly.

Morgana shuffled in his seat. “What are you gonna do?” he looked at Akira, concern palpable in his gaze.

Akira bit his lip, patting Morgana on the head lightly. Of course Morgana would ask; Morgana was the only one who could come close to understanding just how much Akechi _meant_ to Akira.

Before he could answer, Akechi interrupted. “I’d like to speak with Akira,” he said, pointedly requesting Morgana to leave.

“Akechi . . .” Morgana mumbled, “Gotcha.” The cat nodded, and Akira could have sworn there was a flicker of relief across Akechi’s face—but it was gone as soon as it had come. “I’ll leave the decision up to you, Akira—let me know when you’ve reached an answer.” He didn’t wait another moment before slipping out of Leblanc, probably to the Sakura house.

And then it was just Akira alone with Goro.

* * *

Akira stood up next to the counter—next to Goro.

Goro doesn’t look at him. “I will carve my own path for myself.” His words were calm, weighted carefully. “I refuse to accept a reality concocted by someone else, stuck under their control for the rest of my days.”

Akira understood. After the hell of the life he was sure that Goro had had, he couldn’t deny the importance of freedom to him, just when he’d finally gotten it.

He also didn’t miss the hint of wistfulness in Goro’s voice. But if what Maruki had said was really true . . . “Are you sure?” Akira asks, the words out of his mouth before he could stop them.

Goro scoffed. “Why wouldn’t I be?” A pause. “Don’t ask such stupid questions after all this time.”

 _After all this time_ , Akira parroted in his head. _The same thing he said when—_

The sound of a metal wall slamming down echoed too loudly in his head.

Goro relented a little, nodding. “All you have to do is stick to your guns and challenge Maruki.” His eyes narrowed a little, and Akira braced himself for what he knew would be a challenge to follow up on it. “Or are you really so spineless that you’d fold over some bullshit, trivial threat on my life?”

Something—anger, probably, with some indignation—bubbled deeply within Akira, forcing itself out of his mouth. “This isn’t trivial!” he shouted, his hands moving to grab Goro’s collar.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realised he couldn’t the last time he got this worked up over something.

Goro narrowed his eyes in a piercing glare. “It _is_ ,” he hissed, and that was the pushing point for Akira.

“No, it’s _not_!” he shouted—when was the last time he’d _shouted_?—and pulled Goro closer, leaving barely a few centimetres space between them. Somewhere, it registered in Akira’s mind Goro still has about an inch of height on him, highlighted by the way he glanced downwards to meet Akira’s eyes.

Suddenly, it felt like too much, all at once. Even though Akira was the one to initiate this contact, this _closeness_ , he hadn’t been fully prepared for it. Goro’s silence; the tension between them; the newfound lack of pretenses and metaphors and mind games and double entendre—

It was all too direct. Akira wasn’t a straightforward person. He preferred to make concise but unassuming statements to let the person he was talking to draw their own conclusions. He stayed in the background, blending in with the shadows.

Akechi wasn’t a straightforward person either. He was more the type to say exactly what he meant under a layer of barely decipherable comparisons, making subtle but clearly pointed gestures towards his goals. This was something so wholly new to both of them, Akira was sure.

He also didn’t know how to handle Goro’s sharp gaze searing into his eyes, even through the thick lenses of his glasses. The urge to retreat, to hide away behind another mask was almost overwhelming.

Akira wasn’t used to being _seen_ like this, like _himself_ at his rawest at all.

Something only Goro could see, apparently.

Instead of hiding, Akira buried his face into Goro’s scarf, tears welling up in his eyes that he didn’t want to show.

“Akira—”

“Why can’t you understand,” Akira said quietly into the scarf, “just how important you are to me?” The last words were barely a hoarse whisper, but he knew Goro had heard them nonetheless.

And for once, Goro Akechi had no comeback.

Akira raised his head again, seeing clear conflict in Goro’s eyes. Not hesitation, not rejection, but . . . something akin to surprise.

“I never told Maruki my wish,” Akira admitted. “I think he found it on its own, through Mementos. _I_ didn’t know this was my wish until now.”

“Me not being _dead_?” Goro was clearly trying to be sharp, but there was no bite in his voice.

Akira shook his head. “No,” he said quietly, one hand reaching up to touch Goro’s hair lightly as the other boy’s breath caught. “A chance for us to meet again with nothing keeping you away. It . . . was selfish.”

“All wishes are.” Goro’s eyes were distant, but Akira couldn’t help but feel like this was perhaps the closest Goro had ever really been.

“Akechi,” Akira said, voice barely even audible to his own ears, “what do you think . . . you would have wished for?”

Goro bit his lip. “Nothing Maruki could have granted.” He didn’t elaborate. _If only we had met a few years earlier_ , Akira recalled, wondering if that would have been it.

More importantly . . . his hand was still on Goro’s face.

In a split-second decision, Akira lifted his other hand to tuck a lock of hair behind Goro’s ear, then used it to cup his cheek and look him in the eyes. “I . . . I’m glad you’re here now, you know?”

Goro shuddered slightly in Akira’s hands, leaning into the touch. Akira briefly wondered when the last time Goro had felt this kind of affection was.

“If I’m really here at all,” Goro whispered.

Akira shook his head slightly, moving close enough to Goro that he could feel his breath on his nose.

“I’m a bit offended you think so little of yourself that you expected me to believe you’re dead,” Akira murmured, parroting Goro’s own words from a month prior.

Goro almost shook with disbelief. “You . . . you really are . . .”

Akira, admittedly, wasn’t paying too much attention to Goro’s shock. Instead, he found himself tracing a line over Goro’s cheekbone with his thumb, reveling in the way that each touch made Goro shudder.

“Akira, this isn’t . . .”

“Please, Goro,” Akira whispered in a way that he hadn’t ever before, his voice low and desperate, wanting nothing more than to just stay in this moment forever. “Just let me have this, for now.”

“I need your own answer first,” Goro hummed softly, clearly appreciating the touch but still refusing to give into it. “I need to hear you _say_ it.” Because saying it would make it real in a world where nothing else was.

It was one of the things Akira truly loved about Goro: how no matter what, he would not waver, under any pressure, under any temptation.

And it was because of that that he found himself saying without hesitation, “We’re stopping Maruki,” and Akira could feel tension leave Goro’s body, could see his eyes soften.

This close, Akira could see Goro’s eyes so clearly—the layers upon layers of deep russet, almost honey-coloured in Leblanc’s warm lamplight. Eyes that still burned with a furious flame of determination that only cemented in Akira’s head that Goro was alive; that this, at least, could be real; that Maruki was lying.

There were barely a couple of centimetres between them now, and Akira didn’t know who moved first, but in the next moment, Akira’s lips were on Goro’s in the softest, sweetest of kisses.

Akira didn’t quite know how to describe the kiss—it was gentle, to a degree, tender and careful (dare he say, loving?), but that tenderness stoked the flames of impatience, of heavy desire., and tension melted away after so long of being apart.

It was like two halves being reunited into a single, proper whole.

It felt _right_ , and Akira knew for sure now that Goro was alive, because no dead man could express the same amount of passion as Goro Akechi, his sworn rival, his other half, the only person who could really see him when no one else could.

Not even Maruki could fake something like that.

“Akira,” Goro whispered, finally pulling away, “this isn’t . . .”

Akira shook his head. “It’s real here, you’re real, I’m real, and I’m not giving up on you.”

Goro didn’t say anything.

“ _Goro_ ,” Akira continued, “you know, Morgana said something when we defeated that false god. He told us that the whole world is a product of cognition. There’s no such thing as a ‘real world’, but what each person sees and feels is what shapes reality. That’s . . . what Maruki made use of.”

Akira took a deep breath, lifting Goro’s left gloved hand and placing it on his chest, right over his heart, which felt like it was beating at a million miles an hour. “ _This_ is real. Something that can’t be changed. Mona . . . he was alive because we believed him to be. That’s how he came back, even after the Metaverse disappeared.”

“I wondered,” Goro admitted quietly.

“So that’s why I’m so sure that after all this . . . things will go back to the way they should be.” Akira looked down, not quite able to meet Goro’s eyes, before continuing, “And besides . . . the thought of losing you again— scares me.”

Goro slowly removed his hand from Akira’s chest, drawing it upwards, lifting Akira’s face to look him in the eye. “That’s why,” he said, and Akira could feel the determination in Goro’s voice, “I will never accept this form of reality. I’m done being manipulated. If I live or die, I want it to be on my own terms.”

Akira could feel his eyes stinging as he nodded.

Goro’s gaze softened slightly. “Let’s go back . . . to our true reality.”

**Author's Note:**

> [sobs gently] they're in love your honour.......
> 
> Anyway if you wanna see me keep crying over these two hop into the [Discord server](https://discord.gg/EVvpkc7) or follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/emerald_heart12) or [Tumblr](https://my-colour-undiminished.tumblr.com)!


End file.
